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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24516781">Complicated Arrangements</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hannigram4lyfe/pseuds/Hannigram4lyfe'>Hannigram4lyfe</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Trek: Deep Space Nine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Arranged Marriage, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, m-preg, non-graphic surgery</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 08:26:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,313</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24516781</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hannigram4lyfe/pseuds/Hannigram4lyfe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Since their marriage, he has found himself at a loss on how to conduct himself around his ‘husband’. He really doesn’t even know what that means: his ‘husband’. The word, its meaning, is completely foreign to him. There is a shadow to its shape, some deeper feeling to it that he is not equipped to parse.<br/>==============================================================================<br/>With the Cardassian-Dominion alliance hanging in the balance, Keevan and Damar find themselves embroiled in a last ditch effort to re-solidify ties between their peoples. Thrown together into a relationship neither is particularly equipped to handle leads to far deeper consequences than anyone would have anticipated.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Damar/Keevan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This fic is based on an rp with an awesome friend on tumblr and has been fed by constant musings on this pairing. I know there is a lot of ooc and that these 2 characters never met in canon. I don't particularly care. They have captured my heart and I gotta write out the world they've created in my head.<br/>Feel free to check out my tumblr (Mystrade4ever over there) to see where all this began. And I hope these 2 capture your attention as they have mine.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He finds himself counting out what is sure to be his last moments with a detached calm. The countdown is interspersed with random thoughts that billow out of nowhere and almost immediately dissipate back into the mental ether. He muses on activating his implant and exercising the last bit of control he has over his remaining existence. But he still finds himself unwilling to do so. If he is going to die, it will not be by his own hand. Someone else will have to wrest it from him. He is spiteful enough to make them address the failure of their own creation.</p><p>When his captors remove him from the cell and set into motion his final steps there is only room in his mind for the countdown. Everything else has fallen silent. There is only this stillness that carries him down the corridor, his body acting on its own accord to obey directives beyond his ability to currently comprehend. The Ferengi are no longer of any concern: they are merely cogs in the machine of his demise. They have played their part and will soon be of no more consequence than himself. They, unlike him, are just unaware of this fact.</p><p>It is almost anticlimactic when the Ferengi female is ushered past him and the Jem’Hadar are handed his bonds. He feels entirely separate from the moment, more an observer than an actual participant. His former captors take their own into their ranks and turn their backs on him with no hesitation. One of them, Rom he distantly recalls the name being, gives him a passing glance but in no other way lingers. Clearly, he occupies as many of their thoughts as they do his. </p><p>The Jem’Hadar yank him into forward motion with a glimmer of intent alight in their eyes. They obviously relish performing this particular duty. If they have been made aware of what fate he bestowed upon their fellows, it is not at all surprising. The countdown is briefly buried by an imagining of them taking their revenge before the interrogation can begin. But no, that would not be at all likely. They would not dare. This is for an authority far beyond them.</p><p>Keevan squints his eyes against the painfully bright lights of the room they inevitably force him into, his poor vision affording him no protection. He is forced to his knees, still blinded, and finds himself unable to brace himself before colliding face-first with the floor. He grimaces and rights himself with his eyes still closed, his tail attempting to act as an awkward counterbalance. He hears the doors slam behind the retreating Jem’Hadar and resists the impulse to shield his ears from the noise. It is not as though it will be anything compared to what is coming.</p><p>He hears unhurried footsteps make their way over to him and come to a halt several meters to his right. “Well, it is quite the predicament you find yourself in, isn’t it?” He startles at the voice, opening his eyes and blearily looking towards the source. He had expected another Vorta to handle this matter. But this is not a Vorta.</p><p>Keevan squints up at a Founder, shock written across his face that one would take the time to interrogate a defect. He is not worth this. She clearly reads the emotion and shakes her head at his silence. “We have given you Vorta such gifts, raising you up from your primitive origins to serve at our side. And look at how you repay us. Undermining our cause, tossing away the Jem’Hadar under your command to save your own worthless self. You have no place amongst us, no reason to be allowed to remain alive.” She doesn’t even sound angry, just annoyed and disappointed. He finds himself swallowing the urge to prostrate himself and beg forgiveness. Not only would it be out of character, it would also serve no purpose. His actions have already sealed his fate. </p><p>“But perhaps there is some use for you yet…”</p><p>---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p><p>Damar stares at his superior in stunned disbelief. There is no way he had heard him correctly. “I’m sorry. I do not believe I understand,” he states firmly, looking for clarification to the nonsense he must have misheard, tail lashing violently once before becoming still.</p><p>Dukat sighs and shakes his head with a disarming smile aimed the other Cardassian’s way. “Come now. You know what I said.” When he sees Damar opening his mouth to argue, he swiftly cuts him off. “Really, old friend, it’s not that complicated. It’s no secret that our alliance with the Dominion is garnering some…criticism recently. Now, while I’m sure this dissent will dissipate on its own as our citizens avail themselves of their normal sense of reason, our allies are not so sure. They are not so forgiving of our misguided minority and are not as assured of Cardassian support as they wish to be. And it is known that you” and this he says with a pointed glance at the other’s face “share these unfortunate sentiments. There’s no use denying it. There’s plenty of evidence of this dissidence of yours” he announces with vicious accusation when he sees Damar moving to defend himself.</p><p>Dukat surges forward and plants his hands on the table before his second-in-command, leaning forward as he continues “Do you have any idea of the position you’ve put me in? I’ve personally vouched for the officers under my command and you’ve gone and made my word worthless!” His tail twitches in agitation as his voice rises, the wide smile on his face alarmingly at odds with his tone. “All these years you’ve loyally served me, all the rewards you’ve received for that service and this is how you repay me? No, you heard me correctly the first time. You are going to make this right; you are going to make this up to me, do you understand?”</p><p>Damar stares, dumbfounded, at someone he had thought he had understood. This Dukat is not someone he recognizes; the Dukat he has known would not have said these things, would not have expected this of him. “You cannot be serious. This is madness. It will not solve anything!” </p><p>“Central Command has already made up its own mind and thus, this is a foregone conclusion. You do not have a choice. You’ve never had a choice. This is happening and you had best get used to it. After all, family is Cardassia’s greatest resource. And it will be nice to see you married again, ‘old friend’. And you have so much to make up for that this is the least you can do.” Dukat chuckles at Damar’s expression and draws back from the table. “Now, it is time to get into the details…”</p><p>------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p><p>Keevan stares blankly at Weyoun, unable to process what’s he just been told, let alone formulate any form of response. The other Vorta grins widely and tilts his head to the side, tail curling curiously at his side. “You seem…confused. You should be grateful! Our Founders have been unduly generous by giving this opportunity to prove your loyalty. It is more than you deserve.” Keevan simply blinks at him in continued baffled silence. Weyoun smiles and shakes his head. “Listen closely now, this is the last time I’m going explain it to you.”</p><p>Weyoun takes a moment to order his thoughts and gives him a chirp of inspiration before he begins. “Our Cardassian allies are having difficulty embracing the gifts the Dominion is willing to bestow upon them. There are some who are considering actively attempting to sever the alliance! It is very unfortunate that they just cannot seem to understand what the Founders are trying to do for them and while normally they would just be disposed of, it has been decided that it need not be the case this time. The Founders, in their great wisdom, have elected to forgive these poor misguided fools by appealing to their strange values and show that the alliance will be acted on good faith. Now, these Cardassians are obsessed with their families. They are everything to them, odd as it sounds, and they will do almost anything to defend this ideal. Now, the question is, how do we use this to get through to their unenlightened minds?” He pauses for a moment to see how Keevan is following along. The other Vorta no longer looks as lost, though there is an expression on his face that Weyoun cannot quite place. </p><p>“Why, by making the Dominion a part of the Cardassian family, of course!” he eventually answers his own question. “And that’s where you come into play. Obviously, no Founder is going to take part in any of this. Perish the very thought! So, that leaves us Vorta ourselves and the Jem’Hadar. The Jem’Hadar are soldiers and formidable for sure. But they do not have the skills for diplomacy nor the intellect this situation requires. So a Vorta is all that will do. A functioning one cannot of course be expected to be spared for this, of course. We are needed to command the troops. No, no, it just would not work. But, there is the matter of you defects to address. While you normally would all be destroyed, and believe me I stand by this course of action, there is now a potential use for one such as you. And why should we not avail ourselves of this opportunity? After all, if it doesn’t work, the Dominion will simply employ our usual methods and weed out these…discontent. But if it does succeed? Well, all the better for all involved.” Weyoun smiles more widely and claps his hands together. “Now that we have an understanding, let us discuss the actual details…”</p><p>-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p><p>“It is with hope of uniting our people, in bonds more lasting than mere military cooperation, that we are gathered here today. Family is the greatest of our traditions, alongside service to the State. It is truly the best circumstances when the two can be melded together. We find ourselves able to avail ourselves of such circumstance today. The enjoining of these two individuals allows us to welcome our allies into the most intimate corners of our society. The Dominion will cease simply to support our campaigns and will become a part of our community, will be a part of the greater Cardassian family. They will be able to join us in celebrating the greatest attributes of our culture. This occasion will mark the day the Dominion and Cardassian Union are truly joined together, in pursuit of one glorious future.” There are restrained sounds of approval at the speech’s conclusion, the massive crowd keeping to its formal demeanor. The State official has no reaction to the lackluster reception, and continues onto the ceremony itself, gesturing for the participants to emerge. </p><p>Damar slowly walks forward, discomforted by both the weight of countless eyes upon him and the stiff material of military dress. He is having difficulty keeping focused, his nerves and the lingering effect of inebriation making him jittery and paranoid. It is only the instincts honed by many years of service that keeps his tail from giving him utterly away, though its few erratic movements are still being widely noted. He swallows down a sudden return rush of nausea and diverts his attention to the motion opposite him. It affords him his first in-person glimpse of his soon-to-be-spouse. </p><p>The Vorta is…smaller than he had anticipated. He had only had a small window of time to gather materials on this “Keevan” but he had expected him to have a larger presence. The other Vorta he has encountered have always claimed the space they inhabited, their sheer personality masking their lack of stature. Keevan, though, is barely noticeable. It is only the odd grace of his movements that draws the eye, his delicate features and the slow arcs of his strange, thin tail a source of exotic beauty. Damar is briefly entranced by the display and only realizes they have reached the officiant when there is a muffled cough in the distance and he glances away to see expectant faces beckoning him forward. He shakes off his momentary fixation and takes up the customary position, waiting for his ‘partner’ to mirror him.</p><p>Keevan takes a deep breath, centering himself as best he can, before moving towards the waiting Cardassians, coming to a halt facing Damar with one of his hands raised, palm facing the other. Damar pauses for a second, a dazed look on his face, then raises the opposite hand and presses their palms together. He finds himself surprised at how cool the touch is; he had thought Cardassians would have exuded as much warmth as their dreadful world. How odd to be proven wrong. It just adds another jarring dimension to this strange ritual on this strange world. He still does not understand what it is that their people hope to accomplish here, no matter how many instructions he has been given on how to conduct to himself and on what sequence of events will unfold. He dwells on the bizarre situation he has found himself in, repeating words and gestures by rote without truly processing any of it. He is in a similar state of detachment to that which had enveloped him when he had believed himself marching to his death and he is almost grateful for the distance it provides him. He is jerked back into awareness when Damar curls their fingers together, their palms pressed flush to one another. There is a flurry of more intense Cardassian words and then complete silence.</p><p>Keevan gazes at Damar in dread as he recognizes the moment they have reached. His…husband only stares at him blankly, the only movement a minute tightening of the fingers curled around his own. He can feel panic beginning to bubble up from the depths, his eyes widening as he desperately searches for a way to perform the concluding gesture. Damar seems to grit his teeth as the seconds tick by and murmurs begin to spread through the masses. The Vorta gives a chirrup of surprise when he is tugged forward, a heavy Cardassian hand coming to cradle the left side of his face. Damar freezes at the noise, a conflicted look in his eyes, before he appears to steel himself and gently pushes Keevan’s chin up, tilting his head back. He does not even have a chance to properly process the action before there are scaled lips pressed to his own, his breath leaving him at the foreign sensation. It is over as quickly as it began and Damar immediately retreats, severing all contact between them. </p><p>He stumbles momentarily, tail swinging wildly as he quickly balances himself. He turns narrowed eyes to his husband as the officiant begins loudly speaking once more, addressing the crowd with increased vigor. There is a far more jubilant response than his pre-enjoinment address and the somber mood is visibly lifted. Once the words that have welcomed him into his new Cardassian family have been spoken, and more importantly witnessed, there is a loud cheer before the officiant turns to guide them away into a quieter venue. The important parts are finally over.</p><p>------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p><p>The broadcast of the Dominion-Cardassian enjoinment ends and the screen goes blank. There is heavy silence as the officers stare blankly at one another, none quite sure how to respond to what they have just witnessed. Eventually, a gruff voice shatters the moment.<br/>
“What the hell was all that?” O’Brien turns to the Captain, hoping to find some source of reason in this madness. He is disappointed to be met with frank disbelief.<br/>
“I do not know, Chief. And I find myself far more concerned with what it could mean.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>More of some of my favorite bois.=D<br/>Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>1 MONTH LATER<br/>Keevan is roused from another dissatisfying rest cycle by heavy footfalls in the next room. He heaves a frustrated sigh and begins rising from the bed. He has just gained his footing when there is the sound of a slurred voice loudly speaking and a responding beep from the Replicator, causing him to pause for a moment, head titled at an angle to better capture the noise. There is nothing for several seconds until his heightened hearing makes out the drop of something glass against something firmer (probably a beverage being set against the table in the dining area). He scowls at what is becoming increasingly familiar and his tail lashes violently behind him before stopping, curled upwards. </p>
<p>Every other time he has found himself similarly disturbed, he has simply ignored it and found something else to occupy his attention. Now, he is not content to do so. Since their marriage, he has found himself at a loss on how to conduct himself around his ‘husband’. He really doesn’t even know what that means: his ‘husband’. The word, its meaning, is completely foreign to him. There is a shadow to its shape, some deeper feeling to it that he is not equipped to parse.</p>
<p>Unsettled by the direction his exhausted thoughts have taken, he gathers himself and begins walking to the entrance of his bedroom. The doors open at his presence and he stops for a moment, peering into the hallway beyond. He can make out the sound of liquid spilling into a glass and muffled swallowing. He scowls to have his suspicions confirmed. He can feel a dull pain spark in his temples and screws his eyes shut in annoyance. After a few moments where the pain refuses to pass and he has resigned himself to suffering another headache, he opens his eyes and carefully makes his way down the hall, tail lashing. He comes to a halt in the small alcove that serves as their dining area, disgust painting his face at what he finds.</p>
<p>Keevan glares at Damar, taking in his slouched over figure. The Cardassian is slumped in a chair at the table, clearly heavily inebriated. He wrinkles his nose at the strong scent of kanar and scoffs under his breath. The Cardassian indulges himself far too often and it has become a major nuisance. His “husband’s” habits are more aggravating than he had thought they would be. They will have to be addressed.<br/>------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br/>Damar mutters to himself in his stupor, tail listlessly curling upon itself. He reaches to draw the bottle in for another sip and grunts when his fingers come up empty. Grumbling, he forces himself upright, squinting as he forces his eyes to focus. He frowns when can finally make out Keevan standing beside the table with the glass in hand. He laughs bitterly and sinks heavily into his chair. He tilts his head back and turns his gaze to the ceiling. “What are you doing?” he grates out, disdain dripping from his words.</p>
<p>Keevan freezes at his voice, tail twitching in alarm. He has never heard Damar utilize that tone. It is…jarring. He draws back from him, fumbling with the kanar. The tip of his tail twitches wildly as he gathers himself. This is not how he expected this to go.</p>
<p>Damar sighs in disgust at the lack of response and turns to look at the Vorta. He snorts at his startled expression and rolls his eyes. “Nothing to say? What else is new?” He jerkily gets to his feet and immediately stumbles. He roughly steadies himself and makes his way to where Keevan has remained frozen. He peers down at him, his gaze flickering from his shocked eyes to the kanar in his slack grasp. He reaches out and snatches it back, encountering no resistance. He gives another bitter laugh and takes a deep drink. After the overwhelming sweetness has left his throat, he releases a quiet sigh. He chances a glimpse at his husband’s face and finds himself abruptly and completely fed up by his lack of reaction. Even now, Keevan apparently cannot bring himself to say or do anything of substance. Weyoun may ramble with sycophantic nonsense, but at least he says <i>something</i>.</p>
<p>Keevan stares at the Cardassian, deeply unnerved by his recent behavior. He and Damar have interacted the bare minimum since their enjoining, going about their respective duties and passing by as ships on disparate and briefly intersecting courses. But nothing in their few encounters had given any indication to this distaste, this simmering anger. He had not been aware of Damar’s seeming repulsion of himself. He has been disinterested in his spouse but to discover that he is viewed far more negatively is strangely disheartening. He does not like that the Cardassian is…dissatisfied with him. It sits heavy in his stomach, that dissatisfaction. </p>
<p>Damar gives a baleful grin and shakes his head. He takes another swig of kanar and collapses back into his chair. His tail wraps itself around the supports and he sinks fully back. He gazes toward the Vorta and finds him staring at the appendage, a tight, wary look on his features. His tail flicks in agitation, lashing out before curling back around more tightly. He chuckles in derision, his grin now sharp and mean. “Staring is rude. I thought Vorta were supposed to be diplomatic.” Keevan jumps slightly at his words, confusion and surprise in his eyes. “Then again, you are defective. Shouldn’t expect good manners from the likes of you.” </p>
<p>Keevan gives a clicking sound behind his teeth, his own tail puffing at the end, the madly twitching tip the only point of movement. The pain in his temples has erupted into throbbing agony, every breath ratcheting it up another notch. His stomach is churning with the pain and an abrupt fury that seems to have come from nowhere. He is choking on the flurry of words that want to fly from his tongue. A series of particularly sharp clicks give way to a gritted out “As if you know what constitutes good manners. A Cardassian knows as much about politeness as a drunk Klingon!” He sneers at Damar, arms crossed and tail swishing rapidly back and forth.</p>
<p>Damar blinks in surprise, a sharp laugh bubbling from his mouth. He hadn’t actually expected to provoke a response from the Vorta. He chuckles as he raises the bottle, tipping it good-naturedly towards his husband as he takes a sip. “Klingons at least are direct. None of the Dominion’s cowardly lies and double-dealing. The Klingons deliver what they have promised.” He gestures widely as he continues on “The Dominion has reneged on every promise they have ever made. No wonder they have to create their servants and soldiers. Nothing else would stomach what they spew. And even that they don’t get right! At least their little implants seem to work properly. Chances are yours is as defective as the rest of you, though. Why don’t you try it out to see?” He laughs at his own joke, knocking back the last of the kanar.</p>
<p>There is a heavily silence as his words linger on the air. Damar roughly sets the empty bottle on the table and shakily wipes his mouth. It seems what fire had been ignited in Keevan has already extinguished itself. How disappointing. Things had been mildly interesting for a moment. He slowly turns to the Vorta, expecting to see the same dumb expression. He is shocked to see Keevan very pale, eyes wide and clearly showing hurt and something else he is hard pressed to name. When the Vorta realizes he is being observed he gives another of those agitated clicks and visibly shakes himself. His husband breaks his stare and stalks towards the door. Before he can gather himself and get to his feet, Keevan has already left. He can distantly hear the doors to his room engaging and then sealing themselves shut. He sinks slowly back into the chair and gazes blankly at the table before him. His drunken thoughts press at him, forcing him to process what he had just observed in Keevan’s eyes. Nausea blooms as he abruptly realizes what that supposedly unnamed emotion had been: fear.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warnings: mentions of invasive medical procedures and descriptions of mental and emotional trauma</p><p>I was so mean in this chapter. I loved it.<br/>---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Keevan stalks through the doors and into his room, sinking back against the wall and closing his eyes. He slowly slides down, coming to rest with his knees cradled to his chest, arms wrapped about them and tail curled tightly around himself. He starts to shake slightly, taking deep breaths as he tries to push against the panic and pain racing through him. His face feels as though he is on fire, his cheeks flushed and sweat beading at his temples as he continues to struggle. 

Gradually, he finds himself calming down, tail drifting limply to the floor as he slowly untenses. The Vorta grits his teeth as the agony in his skull continues unabated, pressing a trembling hand lightly against an aching temple. He sighs as he straightens his legs and presses fully to the wall, head tilted to the ceiling. He is exhausted passed the ability of words to convey. It is a state he is despairingly familiar with. More nights than he would like have been spent like this. It is growing beyond his ability to bear.</p><p>It makes no sense. He should be finding rest easier to come by, not harder. He is free from Federation custody and arguably in no particular danger. Aside from further punishment for failing to meet the Founder’s expectations of this farce of a marriage, there isn’t much he can do to put himself at risk. And, truthfully, what punishment could be worse than this?</p><p> Still, sleep remains elusive. And the dreams that find him there are…extremely disturbing. He will awake awash with panic, shaking with adrenaline and shaking from images his mind refuses to hold. It is bad enough that the ability to dream is itself a symptom of his defectiveness. Couldn’t he at the very least enjoy some good ones once in a while? Apparently not. That is clearly asking for too much. </p><p>Keevan finally opens his eyes and forces himself to get up. He braces himself against the wall as he slowly rises, tail doing its best to help him keep his balance. He stumbles back to the bed, collapsing clumsily once he reaches the foot of it. He rolls onto his side, curling into a ball, tail twined about himself in a poor attempt at self-comfort. It is a position he had often fallen into after “talking” with his Federation minders. It is as successful now as it had proven then. The only improvement is the quality of the bedding. As he sulkily wraps the rumpled blanket over his shoulders, memories of the darker times take hold.<br/>
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br/>
<i>Dominion intel had shown the Federation to be soft, lacking the stomach to engage in any respectable interrogative methods. He has cursed the incompetent fools that gathered that intelligence very frequently the past few days. The first few Starfleet officers he had engaged with had fit the mold those reports had cast. They had been unpleasantly cordial and very unintimidating. He is amused at how easy it had been to talk around giving them the information they sought. Just because he had surrendered himself did not mean he was going to make things easy for them. He had expected them to continue to bombard him with restrained hostility. He had not been prepared for the course they had resorted to.</i></p><p>
  <i> He had been transferred to this facility after he had given a third set of the usual well-meaning Federation personnel the old round-around. He had anticipated getting more of the same treatment, just with increased frequency. His first “session” had quickly put paid to that assumption. He shivers in remembrance. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Nothing had seemed amiss as he been directed into a rather large room. It had been the largest “interrogation chamber” he had seen so far. But, as he was rather roughly pushed towards the table in the center of the room, he had felt the first stirring of unease. These were not the usual gestures of gentle persuasion he had grown accustomed to. There was genuine force being applied. He is tense as they push him down into a chair and instinctively tries to jerk away when one of his escorts goes to grab his hands. He is unprepared for the blow he receives to the jaw, making him fall onto the table top. This time, the grip on his hands is bruising as they force some kind of cuffs around his wrists. One of the officers presses a button in the mechanism and there is a hum as an energy of some kind circles his wrists just beneath the cuffs, presumably to act as a second layer of restraint.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>He flinches as they draw away, reaching up to test at the sore spot by his chin. He really had not expected this kind of…barbarity from Starfleet. He is rapidly falling out of his comfort zone. The officer sneers at him as they retreat from the room, engaging the forcefield in the doorway on their way. He nervously glances about the room once he is alone, doing his best to analyze his surroundings. But there isn’t anything to work with. The room has only the bare essentials: the table he is seated at, another chair across the way and a small console in the far wall. There is absolutely nothing else present.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Keevan waits for some time before he hears the forcefield disengage. By that point, the ache in his lower jaw has spread over most of his lower face. He perks up at the noise, tail flicking sharply as his solitude is disrupted. He squints and makes out a small humanoid figure walking towards him, footsteps echoing in the nearly empty room. He blinks when a young human female tsks as she comes up to him, shaking her head as she takes in the state of him. He tilts his head to the side as she kneels at his side, reaching out to him with a medical apparatus in hand. He flinches backwards, clicking his tongue in alarm. She sighs and leans back, peering up into his face. “I’m trying to patch you up. There’s no reason to leave you injured.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>He peers at her for a few moments before reluctantly nodding and bracing himself for her to come closer. This is more in line with what he had expected from the Federation. She rolls her eyes at his behavior and runs the front of the machine over his sore jaw. After a few passes, he feels as good as new. She smirks at his relieved expression and rises back to her feet. She chuckles and goes to the chair on the other side of the room. She drags it over and leaves it facing him. But she doesn’t sit as he had half expected her to. Instead, she throws a wink his way and walks over to the small console, turning her back to the wall and standing silently at attention.</i>
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  <i>He glares at her in bewilderment and opens his mouth to speak when they are joined by another officer. He scowls at the male human who takes the chair across from him and looks at him with cold, bright eyes. He clasps his hands together and leans forward, smiling pleasantly towards the Vorta. “Hello, Keevan. It’s nice to finally get the chance to meet you in person.”  The man’s voice is steady, threaded through with a strangely jovial undertone. He genuinely appears to be pleased to be speaking with Keevan. It is oddly off-putting. </i>
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  <i>“Nothing to say? Now that’s different. You had quite a lot to say to my ‘colleagues’. All drivel, of course, but still. How odd you would choose now to exercise some silence.” The man peers curiously at him, expression mildly disapproving. “Ah well, no matter. I’m sure that will change in no time. You’ll be…what is that old expression, Martinez? The one about those yellow birds?”<br/>
“Singing like a canary, Sir?” the young woman responds, amusement clear in her voice.<br/>
“Ah, yes, that’s it! Thank you!” He smiles benignly at her before turning back to Keevan. “That’s Martinez for you, always has whatever you may need at hand.”</i>
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  <i>Keevan stares at him in disbelief. This…random dialogue makes no real sense. The only real information he can garner from it is the name of the woman. Nothing else of import has been spoken. This is the least efficient attempt at interrogation he has ever witnessed. “I am sure she is…a competent officer. Her skills are a credit to Starfleet.” He says sarcastically, doing his best to get a feel for this man. He is surprisingly difficult to get a read on. He can tell his emotions are overly exaggerated, if not entirely faked. Beyond that, the man is a mystery.</i>
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  <i>The man laughs good-naturedly at his remark, nodding in seeming agreement. “That she is. I was very lucky to get her. Recruited her right out of the Academy, didn’t I, Martinez?”<br/>
“That’s right, Sir.” She sallies back, chuckling softly.<br/>
“One of the best acquisitions of my career.” He taps his fingers against the table, as though gathering his thoughts before he continues speaking. “Unfortunately, I can’t say the same of all my officers. I am sorry for the incident earlier. They’ve been reprimanded. I hope you believe me when I tell you that I do not condone such violence amongst my staff.”</i>
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  <i>Keevan glares at him, tail swishing in annoyance. “I am not sure that I should. Clearly, you are not as in control of your staff as you should be.”<br/>
“Well, we can’t all command obedience through chemical dependence. And you’re a clear example that method doesn’t always work all that well either.” The man sneers at the Vorta, shaking his head slightly. “Anyway, it doesn’t really matter. It only gave us the opportunity we were looking for a little earlier than planned. It’s a boon, really.” He waves his hands excitedly, eyes alight with anticipation.</i>
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  <i>Keevan squints in speculation, head cocked curiously to the side. “Opportunity? For what?”<br/>
“Martinez got some interesting readings when she treated that little scrape of yours.” The Vorta startles at that revelation, turning a vicious glare at the woman, who beams in response. “What? Did you really expect us to help you without taking advantage? Really? I know that Starfleet has a…reputation for being soft, but we’re not stupid. Of course, we were going to take some scans when we had the chance. After all, at the very least, we need to know your base health readings. We do need to know what level to get you back to, after all. Can’t start working on you without that knowledge. At least, it wouldn’t be a smart thing to do.” He smirks joyfully, reaching forward to drum his fingers on the table. </i>
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  <i>Keevan huffs heavily, trying to mask the sudden spike of unease that skitters down his spine. “I doubt your primitive technology observed anything of merit. You know nothing that will aid you in extracting any information I do not wish to impart.”<br/>
“Martinez?” the man gestures broadly in her direction, an indulgent expression crossing his face.<br/>
“There appears to be an implant of some kind located at the base of the neck, with apparent trigger mechanisms by the ear and chin. I would theorize that it would act as a method of self-termination or execution. Presumably acting by releasing an agent that attacks or disrupts the nervous system. Nasty piece of work, too. Looks like it’d hurt like a bitch.” The man turns a narrow-eyed look his way, chuckling quietly.<br/>
“And we’re already looking at a way to neutralize it. Or maybe to trigger it ourselves. Whatever we’ll end up needing. Of course, the direction of that research will depend a lot on how you choose to behave. You may want to choose wisely.” And his grin turns peculiarly nasty at having made that point.</i>
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  <i>Keevan clenches his jaw at her observations, fingers twitching in his restraints. Until this point, he has not seriously entertained the notion of activating the implant in any fashion. But the option has hovered in the back of his mind, a way out if things ever took a drastic turn and he found himself unable to endure. Now, it seems he may lose the one trump card he had truly had. He shivers at that knowledge, tail curling into his lap.</i>
</p><p><i>He had been lucky that that session had ended with him being returned to his ‘cell’ without any further actions on his captor’s part. It appeared that they had only wanted to let him know that this facility would not be using the same soft-hearted approach he had been accustomed to. His luck hadn’t lasted for long.</i><br/>
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He burrows deeper into the blanket, tail quivering as he is swept up by the memories. His other encounters in that facility had not been nearly as considerate. <i>Poisons pumped into his veins, testing his claims of immunity…long, drawn out scans of his nervous system, accompanied by taunts about how easy it would be to set off his implant, now, now, no moving!...doctors smiling, doctors frowning…hormones?...whispers about brain structures similar to Vulcans, to Betazoids…nonsense, nothing he has a frame of reference for…his head always hurts, unrelenting pressure at his temples, behind his ears, behind his eyes…he hates them, hates everything about this place, these people, their eyes always watching, never leaving him alone, nowhere to hide…can’t even escape in sleep, they’re always there, always…</i></p><p>Keevan flinches violently, tugging the blanket over his head and curling into a fetal position. He is so tired of all this. Nothing changes. It is all the same, no matter where he finds himself. He doesn’t even know why he bothers to try.</p>
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